by Rowan Luis

These walls and this bed

my henna and

your dirt...

gave birth to our glob of clay,

and I don't want it to be rejected

when the walls change and the henna grows out

and I discard this sprung mattress that's imbued with sweat,


you and me.


Author's Note: hmm. yuk.

Posted on 11/11/2007
Copyright © 2021 Rowan Luis

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Coleman Demiurge on 11/12/07 at 04:35 AM

Moving indeed... As I've said before, you're excellent at saying much with few words and you prove as much with this piece. I think I'd refer to this as more of a vignette than I would a poem, or how about both even - that works for me. Any way it is and whatever it is, it is very well done. I especially liked this line: "gave birth to our glob of clay "

Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/12/07 at 05:56 AM

Nicely written, sharp visuals, man. This has a real punch to it.

Posted by Genevieve Sturrock on 12/26/07 at 03:08 PM

few words, loads of emotion. sharp and clear.

Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 01/02/08 at 09:08 AM

this feels very familiar... and it makes me wonder when was i rejected...?

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